


This Was Never Going to Be a Happy Ending

by Sreya



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, SHIELD is not innocent, Season 2 Finale Rewrite, Stand With Ward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4311951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sreya/pseuds/Sreya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant receives a distress signal from Kara after she escapes imprisonment by SHIELD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Was Never Going to Be a Happy Ending

Grant was in Spain when he received Kara’s text message. 

After responding to her first message with a brief “I’m ok. Coulson will take care of you” he’d not responded to any of her queries. It was hard - Kara was the first person in a very long time to actually care about him, and he knew she was upset he’d left her there. But it was the best thing to do for her. He couldn’t fix her - how can one broken person fix another? And while he may have made his break with the team, he still trusted Coulson to take care of his own SHIELD agents. The fury he’d unleashed on Grant was enough proof of how protective he could be. Kara was in good hands. _And those can’t be mine._

So he’d gone to Europe from the icy Hydra base and made his way to the location of one of his last safe houses. Well, his and John’s. But he tried not to think about that too much when he arrived late in the night, exhausted and weary from six days of traveling while avoiding detection. He checked the condition of the small apartment, ensuring the locks were still secure and nothing had been disturbed, then collapsed on the couch and fell asleep without even removing his shoes.

He awoke around noon, and groggily peeled off his clothes for a long overdue shower. He stood in the bathtub under the water, letting it beat down on him and listening to the noise surround him. His mind drifted to a fantasy he’d had only a couple of weeks ago, of living in a small house with Kara in Mexico, just like any normal couple. If they were there now, she would have heard the water running, and tried to sneak into the shower with him. But he would hear her coming, and he’d grab her as she stepped into the shower, spinning her around as she laughed in surprise. He would kiss her under the warm water, work his hands in her damp hair as it grew heavy and she would kiss him back, pulling him with her until she stood against the wall, running her hands down his back…

In the real world, Grant gasped and shook off the daydream. He twisted the faucet knob to turn the water cold, enduring it for several minutes before turning it off and stepping out to find a towel. It would do him no good to dwell on what he couldn’t have. He’d put Skye in his past and moved on. He could move on from Kara, too. 

They were both better off without him.

Once he’d dressed in clean clothes from his sack and eaten a ration bar, he started working his way through the apartment to catalog his resources. The weapons cabinet was sparsely stocked - the boxes of ammo were mostly depleted, a couple of handguns were clipped into their places and one rifle was leaned into the corner. It was an early model Night-Night rifle, one he was well familiar with. _No surprise John left that one behind_. The safe was more promising: 300,000 euros and several prepped European passports, all he needed to do was add his photograph. He could run to a passport photo kiosk later and take care of that. The kitchen was reasonably stocked with ration bars and canned goods.

He moved into the bedroom to check out supplies in there. It held a double bed, a cot folded up in the corner, a large dresser and a locked trunk. Opening up the dresser drawer, he pulled out a dark turtleneck shirt. It smelled of aftershave and the distinct metallic scent that was uniquely John’s. Grant’s stomach churned, and he shoved it back into the drawer and slammed it into the dresser. He leaned down, breathing heavily. When he looked up at the mirror, the circles under his eyes and his dark beard were a sharp contrast to his pale skin. As usual, he felt like he was looking at a stranger - or worse, a mannequin waiting to be dressed and put on display.

He slammed his fist down on the wooden dresser. The Berserker rage woke deep inside of him. _Damn it!_ he thought, struggling to hold it back. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, then pushed away to sit on the bed. But that didn’t help, either. It brought back memories of the time he and John had ended up here after a mission years before. Grant had taken a beating and suffered a head injury. After helping to patch him up, John had fallen asleep in the double bed while Grant sat up on the cot, wrapped in blankets and struggling to stay awake in order to not succumb to the concussion.

At the time, he’d been so grateful to John for helping to patch him up. Now, he just felt angry at the man for dragging him into such a dangerous situation in the first place. With the benefit of hindsight and years of experience, Grant could see they never should have been on that mission in the first place. The intel was too sparse, they had no backup… Grant wondered if the reason they had no one to help was because it wasn’t even a sanctioned mission. John may have been taking them off-book and not even told him. 

Launching himself off the bed, he jerked open the drawers and started pulling out clothing. Everything that had belonged to John, anything the man had touched, was thrown on the bed in a pile. Wrapping the bedspread around them, he carried the bundle into the bathroom and dumped them in the tub, then added the soiled clothing he’d left on the floor when he showered. He carefully pulled down the shower curtain and then went out into the other room to disconnect the smoke alarm. He grabbed a box of matches in the kitchen, marched into the bathroom and set the bundle on fire.

He stood back to watch as the clothing caught, the flames licking their way up the tile wall. It would leave scorch marks, but he didn’t plan on staying long anyway. Watching the fire, listening to it crackle, his heart rate slowly dropped. Fire always did seem to soothe the Berserker rage.

He watched until the flames started to die down, choking on the ashes they left behind. The phone in his pocket vibrated with a text alert. He pulled it out, expecting another plea from Kara to come back - the last one she’d sent was over 18 hours before, she was overdue.

But this message only read _SOS_ _Coords?_

Swearing, Grant turned on the water in the tub to douse the last of the fire and sent back _transport?_ She responded after only a few seconds with _Air_.

Rushing into the living room, Grant found a map of Spain and scanned it for a safe rendezvous point. Selecting an open field outside of the city, he texted back the encrypted coordinates. _eta?_

_Three hours_.

… … …

As the SHIELD quinjet landed roughly in the mountain field he’d chosen, Grant kept a tight grip on his handgun. He aimed it level with the dropping plank in the back, and didn’t lower it until Kara walked off alone and started to run toward him. He lowered his arms in time for her to wrap herself around him, holding him tight. He could feel her trembling.

“Kara, what happened? What’s wrong?”

“They locked me up.” Kara’s voice was tight - he recognized the tone, it was the one she used when talking about Hydra and Whitehall, pushing past the instinct to keep quiet. “They locked me up, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just… the guard came back in and I… oh, god, Grant, I killed him and ran. I just couldn’t, I _couldn’t_ stay there, not with _her_ there, they locked me up -“

“Shhhh,” he soothed, rubbing a hand on her back. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Inside, he was furious. He’d left Kara with SHIELD so she’d be _safe_ , so they could help her, not lock her up. And Coulson had _promised_ to take care of her.

_You should have known better_. The thought sounded a lot like John.

Loosening his grip, Grant pulled away so he could look Kara in the eye. “Were you followed?”

Kara nodded. “I’m pretty sure I was. I don’t know enough about the system to disable it to lose a tail without losing all navigation capability.”

“Okay.” He rubbed her upper arms gently. “Then we probably only have a short time until they’re here. We should get ready for them.”

“Can’t we just run?” Kara asked, her eyes wide and frightened. “I killed that guard, they’re going to be angry -“

“I know. That’s why we have to wait for them.” He was thinking through the angles, analyzing SHIELD’s likely actions and putting together a counterstrategy. “What was happening when you left?”

“I don’t really know, but something big. Everyone was already packing up the planes to go somewhere - I just slipped through in all the confusion.”

“Okay, so they won’t have a lot of resources to send after you. Maybe even only one person, if it’s a specialist.” He looked up at the clear sky. “Let’s move.”

“But what about the plane?”

“Leave it. We want them to find it.” Taking her hand, he turned to lead her from the field. “It’ll bring them right to us.”

… … … 

They set up in an abandoned warehouse he’d seen on his way to the field. Grant had taken the rifle from the safe house, and now he set it up on an old metal catwalk aimed just inside the entry for a clear shot. To his side was a window that let him watch the road. It was a good spot for an ambush - the view to the road was clear and the building offered several vantage points to watch both outside and inside the building. Kara was at the rear of the building, watching the other possible approach, though Grant didn’t really expect SHIELD to use it. Chasing a single escaped prisoner, they’d probably come straight to the front door.

He and Kara had laid a simple trail to be followed - not so obvious that it was a blatant trap, but enough marks and clues that just about any trained agent should be able to follow. Grant figured the SHIELD agent would land, check out the quinjet, report back that it had been found empty, and then set out to follow them. He expected the agent to be 40 minutes behind them, an hour tops.

At 44 minutes after they’d arrived, he saw a motorcycle turn off the road and come toward the warehouse. He watched the driver pull off the helmet and shake her hair loose, recognizing Bobbi Morse from the Playground. She turned to the building, examining it carefully. _Just the one, then._ He saw her wary expression and knew she suspected a trap. But he also remembered the time she’d been following him. Morse was cocky, and he was counting on that now. They both knew Kara’s skills in hand to hand combat, while good, were no match for Morse’s. She wouldn’t expect any resistance she couldn’t handle.

He watched the specialist ease a gun out of its holster, and noticed it _wasn’t_ an ICER. She moved into Grant’s blind spot just outside the door, and he turned to ready the rifle. 

“Kara? It’s Bobbi.” Her voice echoed through the warehouse. Kara didn’t answer. “Kara, I’m just here to talk to you. Can we talk about this?”

Grant grit his teeth at the blatant lie. 

He saw the tip of her handgun peek through the door, and then Morse followed. She stepped carefully into the large open area on the factory floor. Grant tightened his grip, readying his finger on the trigger.

“Kara?”

He fired the shot and watched Bobbi as she swayed, stunned by the ICER bullet, then dropped heavily to the floor. Slinging the rifle across his back, Grant scurried down the ladder from the catwalk. He heard Kara coming from the back of the building and met up with her just as they reached Morse.

He opened his mouth to direct Kara to help him move the body, but before he could say anything Kara breathed out, “It’s her.”

Turning in confusion, Grant asked, “She’s who?”

Kara looked up at him with dark, cold eyes. “She’s the one who sold me out to Hydra.”

Grant remembered what Bakshi had told them about Kara’s capture - that a former SHIELD agent had given them the coordinates to Kara’s safe house as a token of loyalty, had led the raid herself and brought Kara in, offering her to Whitehall as a “gift”. But the agent had turned out to be a double, still working for SHIELD undercover, and he’d only known her by the codename Mockingbird. Standing with Kara now, he looked down at the woman at their feet. “You’re sure?”

“Oh, I’m sure. Her hair was darker, but when she talked to me at the SHIELD base… I knew it was her.”

“Well,” Grant said, nudging the body with his foot. “I guess that changes things.”

… … … 

They tied her up in the machine room from which Grant could watch for anyone else approaching the building. To be careful, he set up a trap at the rear door with the ICER rifle ready to go off when it opened. Part of him was sorry it didn’t have real bullets - on the other hand, ICERs _were_ better for a booby trap, as they’d take a person out no matter where they struck. He returned to the machine room where Kara was pacing while she waited for Morse to wake up. Being first-gen ICERs, she should only be out for roughly 20 minutes. Factoring in how long SHIELD would wait past when she missed a check in, then how long it would take to scramble a team and send them out after her, Grant figured they had 6 hours until they needed to worry about more agents bearing down on them.

_If they bother to send anyone._ He scowled at the thought. _Clearly, they still have no interest in saving their own unless it suits their purposes._

He waited in silence, listening only to Kara pace through the room as she struggled to keep her composure.

… … … 

When Morse stirred, he straightened from leaning against the wall. Kara froze and stared at the woman in the chair. Morse feigned for a few more minutes - no less than Grant expected from her - before finally opening her eyes and looking around. She saw Kara first and narrowed her eyes, then saw Grant standing off to the side. She groaned lightly. “I should have known she’d run to you.”

“Yes,” Grant agreed, pulling up a chair to sit across the table in front of the woman, her hands chained across the top of it. “But that was only the latest of your mistakes.”

“My backup team will -“

“You don’t have a backup team,” Grant interrupted smoothly. “If you did, they’d be here by now. No, you’re here on your own. SHIELD will wait for you to miss your first check-in, then your second. Then, they’ll _consider_ sending in a team to look for you.”

“They won’t leave me behind,” Morse scoffed.

“Like they didn’t leave _me_ behind?” Kara barked. 

Morse fixed her gaze on the other woman. “So this is about Hydra.”

“No,” Kara bit out, marching over and leaning down into Morse’s face, switching off her mask as she did so to reveal her scars. “No, this is about how _you_ , Bobbi Morse, _gave me_ to Hydra, and then _left me there._ ”

As any good specialist trained in withstanding interrogation, Morse remained impassive. But her pupils may have dilated a bit.

“What I want to know,” Kara hissed, “is _why_. Why did you throw me away? Did SHIELD order you to do it? Or did you make that call on your own?”

Morse fixed her eyes on the wall behind Kara and didn’t answer. Kara made a strangled sound, like an animal was caught in her throat, and lunged forward to strike Morse. Grant pulled her back and they stepped away.

“Let go, Grant!”

“Just wait.” He took hold of her shoulders. “Kara, are you sure this is what you want to do? Because we can walk away from this right now. Just walk away and not look back.”

“I’m sure,” she replied firmly. “I need to know why. I need _answers_ , Grant.” Her breath hitched. “If I’m ever going to get better, if - if I’m ever going to know who to _trust_ again - I need answers.”

“She’s not going to give them easily,” he warned. “She’s trained to withstand _torture_ , and nothing short of that will break her.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” he asked. “Do you really?” He ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “We’re not talking standard agent resistance methods. Morse is a _specialist_ \- when they trained us for interrogation, they also made us go _through_ everything they can think of.”

“I have to do this, Grant.”

He studied the resolution in Kara’s face, nodded, and let her go. Together, they turned back to their prisoner. 

… … …

It took them four hours before she started answering questions. The professional spy in Grant was impressed by Kara’s creativity with the machinery and tools in the warehouse. It was also clear that she’d gained some experience with interrogation during her time under Hydra’s control. At the worst points, she directed Grant to hold Morse in place as she inflicted more pain.

As he watched, long buried memories floated just below the surface of his thoughts. He adamantly refused to examine them, pushing them back into their little compartments so he could focus on the task at hand. But some broke through - memories from both childhood and his training with Garrett. At those moments, he nearly cringed and demanded that Kara stop. No one deserved what had been done to him.

But then he’d see the anger and pain in Kara’s eyes, and he shoved the sympathy away. Kara needed this. She needed her answers, like Grant had needed his. And if Morse was the one responsible for Kara being brainwashed, having everything inside her ripped apart… then maybe she did deserve this. 

The Berserker in him rumbled in agreement.

…

“I had to give them something of value,” Morse bit out. “Something to show what I was willing to do.” She glared balefully at Grant. “Ward should know something about that.”

Kara grabbed Morse’s chin and turned her back to look into her eyes. “This isn’t about _Ward_ ,” she growled. 

Morse clenched her muscles, and Grant could see her retreating again.

…

After another half an hour, Morse started talking again. She explained how she’d been on a timetable, that she needed to get in quickly and find information on a group of prisoners before they could be moved again. “It was to _save SHIELD agents_. It was to do my _job_ , the same job you signed up for, Kara.”

Kara marched away in disgust, picking up a pipe and swinging it at the wall to let off some steam. As she did, Grant eased back into the seat across from Morse. In a casual voice to catch her off guard, he asked, “Did you know she was in there?”

Morse looked at Grant, meeting his eyes as she firmly answered, “No.”

_Did you know your brother was in the house when you set it on fire?_

_No, sir._

His heart rate spiked and he clenched his fists. Behind him, Kara let out a bitter laugh. “You’re seriously saying you _didn’t know_? What the hell kind of intelligence operative _are_ you?” Morse’s eyes flashed in resentment, and Kara smiled in triumph. “Either you’re lying to me… or you are _incredibly_ incompetent. Or,” she switched to a mock innocent tone, “is it only Hydra agents who actually care enough to verify their intel before launching a mission?”

Morse narrowed her eyes but didn’t answer her question. “It was part of the mission,” Morse grated out, repeating it as rote. “It wasn’t-“

“Personal?” Grant interrupted. He leaned close, narrowing his eyes at her. “Let me share a little something I’ve learned. It’s _always_ personal.”

… … …

Another hour later, and Grant was starting to get nervous about the time. They’d need to finish this soon, before SHIELD could arrive to look for their waylaid specialist. Kara had a fist full of Morse’s hair and she was yanking back, practically pulling her over the chair as she whispered her questions and insults into the recalcitrant agent’s ear. Whatever she was saying had certainly hit a nerve - Morse was beet red with anger. She started shouting incoherently, twisting and struggling to get at her captor. Grant signaled for Kara to let go and come back around by him. As she walked around the table, Morse’s eyes followed her; she reminded him of a wounded cougar, ready to lash out at the slightest provocation, so focused on her hatred of the woman beside him that it was unlikely she’d be thinking coherently anymore. _Good_.

“All right, Morse.” He forced his tone to be even. Reasonable. “Even if we buy it that this was the _only_ way you could get into Hydra,” he heard Kara snort beside him, “and that it really was to save other agents’ lives, there’s still something I don’t understand.” He tilted his head, and let his disgust with her show. “Why leave her there?”

Morse glared at him balefully, so he went in for the kill. “I mean, I was _there_ , and I know it wouldn’t have been _that_ hard to sneak her back out. Hell, take her on a mission, drop her someplace, come back and say she was dead. Not like Hydra bothered to clean up after themselves anyway, right?” He leaned in and imagined he could hear her teeth grinding. “So why couldn’t you, _Mockingbird_ , who went through all that for so many other agents, why couldn’t you get one _single_ agent out of their grasp?” He rapped his fingers on the table. “Or maybe you really aren’t all that good. Maybe the whole turning over the safe house was someone else’s plan, because you really can’t come up with them on your own. That’s really sad, that Coulson had to trust someone who couldn’t even -“

“Because the Faustus brainwashing can’t be undone!” Morse spat out. Grant sat back to listen, watching her carefully as his stomach churned. “It will _always_ be there. So what the hell was even the point of a rescue? She’ll never be anything more than the automaton Hydra made her into.”

“No,” Kara objected, rigid by Grant’s side. “Dr. Simmons cleared me - it’s gone, I’m cured.”

Morse laughed sadly and shook her head. “She’s wrong. The reason she can’t find it is because it’s become a part of you now. Your brain has compensated for it, absorbed it, and doesn’t fight it anymore.”

“ _That’s not true!”_ Kara shouted, punching Morse across the face.

Grant pushed away from the table, struggling to keep a reign on his own anger. He could feel it, the Berserker rage, boiling under the surface.

“Grant, tell her it’s not true!” Kara pleaded, and she turned to face him. “Tell her I’m not Hydra anymore, I would _never_ go back to Hydra.”

But before Grant could say a word, Morse started talking again. “That’s not how it works. Faustus has to be fixed onto a _person_ \- organizations are too nebulous. When the subject fixation is gone, it seeks out another one - usually the next person you come into contact with.”

Grant turned away and pressed his palms into the wall. _No_.

“Grant was that person, wasn’t he, Kara. The next person. It’s not real, Kara, none of it’s real. You don’t really care about him, you _can’t_ care about him. It’s just the brainwashing.”

Kara shrieked in rage and launched herself at the woman, toppling over the table along with Morse tied to the chair as she viciously attacked. Grant stood watching, stunned, trying to process, until he realized what he was seeing and ran over to grab Kara, struggling to pull her off. “Kara, _stop it,_ you’ll kill her!”

“I don’t care!” Kara sobbed, still fighting against him. “She’s lying, it’s not true.” She turned to cry into Grant’s shoulder, sagging against him. “It’s not true, Grant, I love you, it’s _my_ choice, _my_ feelings, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

He pulled her away from Morse as she continued her protests. He wrapped her up tight, but his heart was beating wildly in his chest. He didn’t want to believe… but god, it made so much _sense_ … They’d only known each other a couple of months… and he’d told her everything, all the evil he’d done in the world, the mistakes he’d made. He hadn’t meant to. Not that he’d tried to hide himself, he wanted her to know she wasn’t alone, that he understood the horrors of working for Hydra, but once he’d started, and she just _listened_ to him, it was like he couldn’t stop, and he just kept going until he’d suddenly realized what he said. He’d expected her to be disgusted with him, to say he was no better than Whitehall… but she’d just taken his hand and smiled sadly. And she’d _stayed_. She’d never thrown any of it into his face, never used it against him. He’d thought she understood.

But what Morse said… It made so much more sense. After all, how could she _possibly_ love him?

He was shaken from his thoughts as he heard the rifle fire in the back of the building, and Kara froze in his arms.

“ _Shit_ ,” he muttered, grabbing the pistol at his belt. “Kara.” She was frozen, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the door of the machine room. “ _Kara!_ ” He shook her gently to get her to look at him. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Let me go look, just… just _wait here._ ”

He rushed out of the room and ducked behind a conveyer belt line. He heard multiple voices in the back, and an echo coming from the front of the building. Straining, it sounded like more of them were in the back than the front. _Good_ , he thought. _Their vehicles will be out front, so if we just get through the smaller group_ _we can still get out._

His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the machine room, then a second. _Kara!_ He ran back in, hoping no one saw him. Morse might have gotten loose somehow, gone after Kara, he shouldn’t have left her alone!

With these thoughts, he was unsurprised to find Morse and Kara grappling with each other across the room. The fight was vicious - nails and hair and teeth and elbows. Grant tried to take aim with his gun, but they were too interlocked, he’d risk hitting Kara. Swearing colorfully, he rushed over and attacked Morse from the back, trying to separate them. He got a good grasp around her neck and pulled her back, avoiding her kicks to his leg, but didn’t anticipate her changing tactics to kick at Kara. The other woman stumbled and fell back against the machinery, hitting her head and falling to the ground. 

It was just enough of a distraction for him to loosen his hold, and Morse got in an elbow to his face, knocking him loose. He regained his footing and twisted with the followup punch to his face, feeling it cut across his cheekbone but not hard enough to knock him back again. Attacking again, he locked his arms behind Morse’s head and drove his knee into her middle, knocking the wind out of her. He did it twice more for good measure, then threw her to the side. As she gasped for air, he found a short pipe and swung it precisely at her head, knocking her out cold.

Behind him, Kara stumbled to her feet. He reached to steady her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, then winced. “Head hurts,” she muttered.

“Come on, let’s get out of here before they find us.” He grabbed the bag with their weapons, handing a pistol to Kara as they left.

Outside the room, he took up the same place at the belt with Kara squatting beside him. “Okay, I’m going to take the group just inside the front door. You got my back?”

She reached for his free hand and squeezed it. “Always.”

He swallowed hard, pushing his feelings aside. “All right.” He nodded twice to give her the count, then launched up and rushed the three agents in view. He aimed at the shoulders of their dominant arms, disarming them, with a followup shot to the knee to bring them down. The gunfire and shouts had attracted attention, and he could hear more agents behind him, though when he glanced that way he realized he was now out of view.

Dealing with a fourth agent that came up on his side took a bit more work - Grant lost his gun to a well-placed kick, returned the favor by yanking the agents arm and twisting until he released, then swung the man against the concrete wall and followed it up with an elbow to the face. When the agent didn’t go down, Grant twisted him and encircled his throat from behind, squeezing until the man went limp. Releasing before he could do any more damage, he dropped the agent just as he heard Kara scream.

He didn’t even remember getting there - one moment he was lowering the agent, the next he was rushing back around the equipment to see Kara impaled on a broken lever. Melinda May stood before her.

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice about whose face you -“

Incensed, Grant launched himself at the woman. The Berserker screamed inside of him, making him stronger, faster. He let it seep through him, welcoming the strength, but holding back the mindlessness so he could remain focused. This was nothing like their last fight when he’d taunted her, enjoying the feeling of having broken the icy cool exterior of the legendary Cavalry. No, this time it was pure rage pouring forth, and _he’d_ caught _her_ off guard. Soon she lay unconscious before him, and Grant spun around to stare at Kara in horror.

The lever had pierced straight through her midsection. She was struggling to pull herself off of it, and he ran over to carefully help her. Blood spurted without the metal to hold it back, and he hurriedly pulled off his jacket to wrap tightly around her. “Hang on,” he begged. He helped her grasp the jacket to keep it in place, grabbed the pistol she’d dropped then picked her up to carry her to the front of the building. She cried out and bit down on his shoulder to try and deaden the noise. He stumbled, then realized he couldn’t just carry her out before making sure it was clear of other agents - he couldn’t afford to have his hands full if there was anyone else there to deal with. He yanked open the closest door and found a large utility closet. Grant ducked inside and knelt down to carefully place Kara against the wall.

“Grant,” she coughed, spitting up blood, “You have to go without me.”

“No,” he refused. “I’m not leaving you behind. You saved me in San Juan, I’m saving you now.”

She smiled sadly. “Grant, you know this is so much worse.” She winced as she pulled her hand away from her wounded abdomen and the blood gushed from her. “There’s no saving me. I’ll only slow you down.”

“That’s _not true._ ” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I promised to take care of you. You’ll be fine”

She didn’t answer, just tilted her head up to gently press her lips to his. He kissed her at the same time as bringing her hands back to press against her wound. “Just… just hold on.” He pulled the gun from his belt and sat it in her lap. “I’m going to get one of those cars, and we’re going to get out of here. _Together_. I’ll knock twice on the door before entering - anyone else opens the door, shoot them.”

Her eyes were glassy, and it was everything he could do not to panic. She leaned forward against him, breathing with difficulty. “Grant, I love you.”

He kissed her forehead, and leaned her gently back. Easing the door open, he checked for enemies outside. He could hear voices in the distance but nothing nearby. He slipped out and started running the remaining length to the outer door.

A gunshot pulled him up short. Turning around, he didn’t see anyone else in the room with him. There was no one at the door to the closet with Kara. _And the gunshot hadn’t been for him_.

“Oh, god,” he choked. “No.” Running back to the room, he flung open the door to find Kara. She was slumped against the wall, gun in hand. A bullet hole was perfectly placed over her heart. “ _No!”_ Grant screamed, collapsing in front of her and grabbing her shoulders. Kara fell against him like a rag doll. “No, no, no no no.”

Grant didn’t know how long he sat there, holding onto Kara with every ounce of strength he had. As he cried, he remembered everyone that he had failed to protect. _Tommy, John, Fitz, Simmons, Skye._ And now Kara. This time was supposed to be different. _He_ was supposed to be different. Better. Stronger. But it ended the same as it always did, with her blood on his hands.

When he heard voices and footsteps growing closer, he came back to himself with his face wet with tears and the Berserker rage clawing its way to the surface. He gently laid Kara down on the ground, closed her eyes and kissed her one last time, first on her scars and then on her lips. He stood and turned to the door, clenching his fists. There was a long metal pole leaning in the corner of the closet, and he unconsciously grabbed it, readying himself for a fight. He walked through the door to meet the agents outside.

“We’ve got them!” one of them radioed. “Southwest corner!”

Grant hefted the pole. The Berserker howled and beat against his soul, eager to wield a staff once more.

With a terrible scream that ravaged his throat, Grant set the beast free.

**Author's Note:**

> This is... a little hard to explain where it came from. I've never watched the finale - my internet was too weak to download it when it first aired, and then I saw all the reviews and couldn't bring myself to watch it. But I've definitely seen all the spoilers and lots of images, so bits and pieces of it embedded into my head.
> 
> I also felt like there are people out there who are deeply unhappy with the finale, but still plan to watch Season 3. So maybe this can serve as a bit of a substitute for at least one arc. I tried to bring the characters all to about the same place they were at the end of the finale, just bringing them there by a road I felt was true to the characters and gave them more interesting motivations. I hope I succeeded.


End file.
